


Written in Stone

by crimsonherbarium



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Blood and Gore, Brynjolf is the Guild Master, Conspiracy, Daedra Worship, Established Relationship, F/F, Found Family, Heist, Mystery, No Dragonborn, Post-Thieves Guild Questline, Rated For Violence, Rune's parentage, Thieves Guild, dark brotherhood cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2019-11-03 23:21:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17887058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonherbarium/pseuds/crimsonherbarium
Summary: It was a job like any other. Get in quiet, get out quick. Don't get caught.Or so Sapphire thought, until she reached into the back of the safe and found a stone covered in mysterious runes.





	1. Rune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by [sunpraiser31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunpraiser31/)! Sun writes absolutely incredible fics in the PJO fandom and I cannot recommend his works enough.

Sapphire’s fingers swept the back of the safe, probing the rough iron for divots, imperfections—anything that might suggest a hidden panel. Their intel had said it was here, and this informant was never wrong. There had to be something she was missing.

Footsteps approached the door to the room she was crouched in and she froze in the near darkness, not daring even to breathe. They grew nearer and nearer with each passing second. Her hand drifted to the sheath at her thigh, closing around the grip of her knife. She gritted her teeth.

Brynjolf had said no killing. Get in quick, get out clean. But the mercs this mark had hired to protect the safe she was rifling through meant business. Sapphire had had dealings with them before. They’d ended with a knife in her belly and the recruit she’d brought along on the job bleeding out on the dusty floor beside her.

She’d cut her way out of this if she had to.

The footsteps came right up to the other side of the door, stopped, and then slowly began to recede. Sapphire let out a shaking sigh through clenched teeth and relinquished her grip on her knife.

She returned her attention to the safe, feeling around its empty corners for something she’d missed. Her searching fingers skipped across a smooth square of metal in the center of the base and she grinned. She pressed down on the metal and a panel in the back of the safe popped open with a click.

It was there, just as her informant had said it would be. She picked up the relic, pausing for a moment to admire it in the moonlight. It was a heavy silver mirror, its back inlaid with diamonds the size of goose eggs and glimmering soul gems. They emitted a soft lavender glow in the near-darkness. The surface of the mirror rippled like a pool of deep water.

Sapphire slipped it carefully into her satchel. She swept the safe clean of gold and scattered gemstones, and made to close the hidden panel once more. With luck, the mark wouldn’t know the mirror was missing until she was halfway across Skyrim.

Something in the shadowy recesses of the safe caught her eye as she did so. It was a smooth stone, about the size of her palm, with strange runes inscribed into its surface. She hesitated, fingers hovering over it, trying to remember where she’d seen something like this before. It itched at the back of her mind.

The steps of the guard outside approached the room once more. Sapphire snatched the stone and slipped it into her pocket, feeling its cold weight settle against her thigh. She closed the panel and latched the safe, gathering her tools and melting back into the shadows.

By the time it was next opened, she was already long gone.

~~~~~~

Day had faded into evening by the time that Sapphire slipped back into Riften by way of the fishery gate, the setting sun painting the sky with brilliant colors. She nodded to Maul as she passed by the Black-Briar Meadery; he returned the gesture with an even gaze, not moving from his post. They tolerated each other at best, but that was more than could be said of the rest of the guild, and Sapphire was grateful for it. It was hard to get anything done with Maven's watchdog breathing down your neck. She'd be damned if she knew why he seemed to like her more than the others, but it certainly made her job much simpler.

She gladly left the stench of the fishery behind her as she crossed the rickety bridge across the canal to the market. Though the sun hung low in the sky, the stalls still bustled with activity, the city's inhabitants rushing to do their trading after their workdays had ended. Sapphire crept along the stone wall that encircled the market silently, eyes narrowed as she sized up her mark. She reached out, deft fingers poised to pluck every copper from their pockets—

"Get your fingers away from me, or I'll break them off," Grelka growled, whirling around.

Sapphire dodged her reflexive punch easily and laughed. “Nice to see you, too.”

Grelka’s face softened. “You’re back.”

“Yeah, I’m back.” Sapphire kissed her on the cheek.

“You were gone for more than a fortnight,” Grelka said, leaning into the contact. “What the hell have you been doing?”

“Hmm. Probably better if you don’t know.” Sapphire leaned against the wall of the stall. “Should be getting paid handsomely as soon as I check in with the Guild, though. Dinner tonight? I’m buying.”

“You know, it’s really hard to stay mad at you when you’re standing right in front of me,” Grelka sighed. “Fine. Dinner. I’m closing up shop in a couple of hours—you can meet me then.”

“Oh, almost forgot. I brought you something.” Sapphire dug in her pockets, fishing out a delicate silver locket by its chain. Its face was inscribed with scrolling vines, which encircled a rose in its center.

Grelka took it with a look of disdain. “Saph, you know I don’t care for trinkets…”

“Look at it closely.” Sapphire grinned as Grelka squinted at the bauble, her eyes widening as she took in the faint shimmer of magic around its edges.

“What does it do?”

“Best as I can tell, it’s a minor warding spell. Should keep errant hands out of your pockets, if nothing else.”

Grelka gave her a small smile. Those were rare indeed. Sapphire was pleased. She hadn’t been sure if she’d like it. “Pretty _and_ practical. Just like someone else I know.”

Sapphire scoffed. “Don’t even try to make me blush.” She leaned in and kissed Grelka softly. “I’ve got to go check in with Vex and Delvin before they start thinking I’ve run off with the spoils. See you at the Barb in a bit.”

She vaulted the wall and continued around the market to the Temple of Mara, slipping quietly through the graveyard behind it and into the solitary mausoleum after checking to be sure she hadn’t been seen. Sapphire pressed her fingertips lightly to the shadowmark on the sarcophagus and descended into the darkness of the hidden passage below.

~~~~~~

“‘Bout damn time you turned up,” Delvin growled over his plate of grilled leeks as Sapphire entered the Flagon.

“I can do the job fast or I can do it clean. Brynjolf said no bodies.”

“Long as it’s done.” Delvin nodded at the little dock off the tavern, stacked high with boxes and barrels of smuggled goods. “Vex is over there.”

Sapphire found Vex leaning against a tower of crates, her waspish face painted with impatience.

“Well? Out with it. Time is money.”

Sapphire pulled the mirror from her bag and set it wordlessly on the table in front of her.

“That bad, huh?”

“The place was crawling with mercs. I’m lucky I made it out in one piece.”

“Looks like you managed alright.” Vex leaned over and picked up the mirror, tuning it over in her hands as she inspected it. She nodded in approval. “You did good. Here’s your pay.”

The leather pouch of coins made a satisfying thunk as it landed on the table between them. Sapphire weighed it in her palm before she slipped it into her pocket. As she did so, her fingers grazed the runed stone she’d stolen.

“Found this, too. Know anything about it?” She held it out in her palm. The guttering light of the torches turned the lines cut into its surface a shimmering silver.

Vex squinted and shook her head. “I don’t, and I doubt Delvin does either. But I can tell you who does.”

Sapphire raised an eyebrow.

Vex grinned. “Rune.”

~~~~~~

Sapphire found Rune in the training room they’d set up in a chamber off the side of the Cistern, shooting arrows into an unfortunate straw dummy. He hadn’t heard her come in; his eyes narrowed in concentration as he lined up his shot. Sapphire leaned against the damp stone of the tunnel wall and waited.

Rune let the arrow fly. It sang through the air and landed dead center in the target’s chest with a thud. He drew another and nocked it, drawing it back to his cheek. He drew a deep breath and held it.

“You gonna shoot the dummy or wait for it to die of boredom?”

Rune flinched, his arrow flying wide of its target and shattering when it impacted the wall behind. He sighed. “What do you want, Sapphire?”

“Got something that might interest you.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out the stone, running her fingers over its smooth brown surface. She tossed it lazily across the room.

Rune caught it and turned it over in his hands, an incredulous look on his face as he took in the carved markings. He made a fist around the stone. “Where did you get this?”

“Tell me what it is first.”

Reaching into his own pocket, Rune pulled out an identical stone. He held it up for her to see.

“It’s how I got my name. My father—the man who raised me—found me washed up on shore near his fishing village one morning. There was no sign of the ship I was on or my parents, no indication of where I came from. But swaddled inside the basket with me was this stone. I’ve taken it everywhere—hired investigators, showed it to the Archmage of the College of Winterhold, even—but no one knows what it is or where it came from. The runes are like nothing anyone’s ever seen before. I’ve spent my life chasing down every lead I can find, but…” He shook his head. “Where did you find it?”

“That information is going to cost you.”

Rune sighed. “What do you want?”

“Half your take on the next big job.”

He ground his teeth. “Fine.”

Sapphire held out her hand. Rune reluctantly tossed the stone back.

“Found it on the last job Brynjolf sent me on. Rich mark. Very nervous. The place was swarming with mercs. I got the impression that he had something major to hide, and it wasn’t in that safe.”

Rune’s eyes were hard. “Where?”

“The Reach. Fancy house built into the cliff side. Mark was an imperial. Looked like old money.”

“Why’s he on our shit list?”

Sapphire shrugged. “I don’t ask questions. That’s why Delvin likes me more than you.”

“I’m not in any mood to—”

“Ask Brynjolf.” She cut him off. “I’ve been riding for days. I need a bath and a nice strong drink.” She turned to leave.

“Sapphire, wait!” Rune followed after her. “I need a favor.”

“The stone _was_ the favor, Rune. What else do you want?”

“Please.” His face was unusually earnest. “I’ve been searching for answers my entire life. I need to chase this down. And I can’t do it alone.”

Sapphire started walking. “I have better things to do.”

“Who was it that helped you out of a tight spot when you spilled blood on that fishing job and Mercer was ready to cut you loose?” The desperation in his voice was overlaid by reproachfulness.

Sapphire stopped again, her shoulders sagging.

“I’ll give you my entire share of the next big job. Please, Sapphire. I need this.”

She looked back at him over her shoulder. “Since you’ve blackmailed me so nicely—fine.”

“Isn’t that what brothers and sisters do?” He grinned in relief. “I’m going to go talk to Brynjolf, you coming?”

“I smell like horse and my ass hurts. I told you, I’m going to get a drink. You talk to him. I’ll find you later.”

“Okay.” Rune stopped chasing after her. “I promise you won’t regret this!”

Sapphire groaned to herself as she traversed the Cistern. She had a strong gut feeling that she would.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I've been writing in other fandoms for a while, but this is my first Elder Scrolls story. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving me a comment! I'd love to hear from you. :)


	2. Rift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by [SunPraiser31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunPraiser31)!

Sapphire closed her eyes and sighed as the frigid water cascaded down her back. She hadn’t been lying when she told Rune she needed a wash. A fortnight split between the saddle and the shadows certainly hadn’t left her smelling pleasant. The relief she felt upon scrubbing her skin with the hunk of lavender soap she’d wheedled out of Tonilia was almost enough to make her forget how much she missed hot water.

Still though, there was relative privacy to be found in this particular part of the Cistern. That was more than she could say of the bathhouse.

The awkward sound of someone clearing his throat came from behind her, and her shoulders sagged in annoyance.

 _“What?”_ she spat, her tone making it clear that it had better be something damn important if it was going to interrupt her bathing.

“Sorry, Sapphire,” Rune said abashedly. “Brynjolf wants to see us.”

“You’d better have your eyes closed,” she growled. “Because if they aren’t, I’m going to put them out.”

“I’m not even facing you, I swear!”

“Good.” Sapphire wrung out her hair and reluctantly set her soap aside on the stone edge of the pool. “Is this really worth interrupting my bath over? And before you answer, bear in mind how miserable I can make your life if I feel like it.”

“Look, don’t shoot the messenger, okay? He said now, no excuses.”

Sapphire groaned. “Fine.” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure that Rune had his back to her. “Stay like that, and don’t move if you value your life.”

She took her time drying off and dressing, making Rune sweat in the tense silence until she was done pulling on her boots. She let her hair fall in damp ringlets around her face.

“Alright,” she said finally as she settled her knife belt on her hips. “Take me to him.”

~~~~~~

Brynjolf was waiting for them by the vault, poring over a ledger that was spread out on the desk. The Guild had made an enormous comeback in the months since ousting Mercer. The shelves behind the Guildmaster's desk were bursting with pilfered finery. The prized jewel of their collection, the Crown of Barenziah, sparkled on its pedestal. Brynjolf had resisted the pressure to take up the mantle of Guildmaster at first, protesting that he wasn't suited for leadership and that someone else surely deserved the honor more than him, but had eventually caved when every other member of the Guild refused to even consider another option. He'd taken to the position well. The other members all respected him, at the very least, and respect and trust were hard to come by in their business.

Sapphire wasn't much for politics, but she was glad that Brynjolf was in charge. He was a damn sight better at it than Mercer had been, although it wasn't hard to improve upon a sack of shit like that. She mentally spat on his name.

For once, Brynjolf didn't look terribly pleased. He straightened up and crossed his arms as Sapphire and Rune approached, sizing the two of them up.

"I've heard tell that the two of you are running a job that I didn't sign off on," he said, cutting directly to the heart of the matter. "And I've got to say that doesn't make me happy. The Guild doesn't work if we operate like it's every man for himself. You both should know that as well as I do by now."

"It's my fault." Rune stepped forward. "I talked Sapphire into it. It wasn't her idea—I had to beg her to come with me."

"That's true," Sapphire grumbled. She put her hands on her hips.

Brynjolf sighed. "You know how this works, lad. You take jobs from me, Vex, Delvin, or Tonilia. You do them fast and you do them clean. We get our cut. You get paid. Everyone is happy."

"This isn't about money."

"Then what is it about?" Brynjolf raised an eyebrow.

Rune pulled the stone from his pocket and held it out wordlessly.

Brynjolf scrutinized it for a moment, and then nodded. "Ah. So it's personal."

"Yes." Rune made a fist around the stone. "Look, you know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important. There's not money in this for the Guild. I've spent more than I've stolen since I started running with you. But I have to know."

Brynjolf considered for a moment, but Sapphire knew that in the end he'd say yes. He had a soft heart. The Guild was more than a lucrative business opportunity for him. It was a family. He was invested in keeping them together.

"Alright," he conceded eventually. "You have my permission. But the Guild isn't behind you on this one. Get caught in a tight spot, and we won't be there to pull you out. I expect to see you back at the Flagon within a fortnight."

"Thank you." Relief was obvious in Rune's stance. "I owe you one."

"Aye, that you do." He turned to Sapphire. "You'd best go with him, lass. Make sure he doesn't get in over his head."

"My pleasure," Sapphire said dryly.

Brynjolf placed a hand on Rune's shoulder. "Step carefully, lad. I hope you find what you're looking for."

~~~~~~

"You're leaving _again?_ ” Grelka crossed her arms and frowned. "You just got back."

"I know. I got assigned a job I really couldn't refuse." Sapphire sighed and traced the line of Grelka's jaw with her fingertip. "Trust me, I'd much rather be here with you."

"Hard for me to believe that when you run off again every time you've barely warmed my bed. And any man would tell me it's not wise to trust a thief."

"Maybe so," Sapphire said, shifting closer to Grelka under the furs that covered them and pressing a kiss to her hairline, "But if you really believed that I'm sure I wouldn't be warming it right now."

"Careful," Grelka growled. "I'm still not sure if I'm angry with you."

"Be angry at Rune. He's the one who dragged me into this."

Grelka sighed and settled into Sapphire's arms. "How long will you be gone?"

"Brynjolf's given us a fortnight. Hopefully less, if we don't get stopped on the road. Damned fool has me trekking halfway across Skyrim. Again. I'm just as unhappy about it as you are." Grelka's body was warm against Sapphire's. She'd missed this, in her time away of sleeping on hard beds in cold taverns and in burnt-out shacks by the side of the road.

"I'm going to miss you, you know," Grelka murmured.

Sapphire wrapped her arms tightly around her waist. "I know."

"Hurry back to me. This damned place is intolerable without you here. Stay away too long and I might just replace you."

Sapphire grinned. "You'll pay dearly for that."

"Oh?" Sapphire could hear the smile in Grelka's voice. "Show me how."

~~~~~~

The loose scree of gravel that was scattered across the road crunched under Sapphire’s boots as she and Rune made their way out of the Rift and into Eastmarch. The day had started out sweltering hot, but now that they were passing by Windhelm the trickles of sweat that were still under her armor were cold against her skin. Between that and Rune’s damnable whistling, she found herself in an exceptionally foul mood.

“Will you stop that?” she snapped finally. “Thieves are supposed to be quiet. And this is going to be a long fucking journey, presuming I don’t murder you before we pass Whiterun.”

“Sorry, Sapphire.” Rune frowned. “My father liked to whistle while he worked. Guess the tune sort of rubbed off on me.”

Sapphire softened. She could sympathize with the weight he was carrying. Hers had come in the form of a score to settle. It had felt good when she’d run her stolen knife through the throats of every last one of the bandits who’d taken her prisoner. But not as good as she’d thought it would. She sighed.

“It’s going to be a long walk. I guess we might as well try to pass the time. Tell me about your father.”

“Not much to tell.” Rune shrugged. “The man who raised me was a fisherman. He found me washed up on the shoreline near Solitude. He took me in, raised me as his own. Tried to give me the best life he could. But we were poor, and there was never enough. I don’t know how many nights he went without food so that I could eat.”

Sapphire remembered all too well the hollowness that came from going days without food. Unconsciously, she rested a hand on her stomach. “So you started to steal to make ends meet.”

Rune nodded. “Just enough to get by. I wasn’t very good at it. I got careless. Got picked up by the guards more than once. They felt bad for me, so they usually let me go. My father wasn’t proud of what I did, but he looked the other way because he knew that we needed the gold and food I stole to survive.” He looked away sadly. “He caught rattles the year I came of age. He slipped away fast.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” Rune let out a heavy sigh.

“So where were you when the Guild picked you up? I don’t think I’ve ever asked you that.”

Rune snorted. “Funny story, actually. I tried to pick Brynjolf’s pocket. You’d think I’d have gotten better at sizing up a mark by then, but here we are. Luckily he was amused and instead of a noose around my neck I got a job offer.”

Sapphire whistled through her teeth. “Wow. All the people in the market you could have stolen from, and you chose Brynjolf?”

“I know.”

“Keep that one to yourself or you might just take the official title of Guild Dumbass away from Vipir. I’m sure he’d be glad to be rid of it.”

Rune chuckled. “You may be right about that.” He turned to her. “What was your life like before the Guild?”

Sapphire bristled. She should’ve known that was where this conversation was going to end up.

“Don’t push your luck, Rune.”

He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, alright. Forget I said anything.”

Sapphire nodded curtly. They walked on in silence for a while, until Sapphire’s eyes lit on a ruined tower by the side of the road and she stopped short.

“Don’t take another step,” she hissed, grabbing Rune by the shoulder when he continued past her and pulling him back. “Do you see that?”

“See what? It’s just a ruin.”

“And it’s just a miracle that you still have your head if this is how you go about traveling. Use your eyes and _look._ ”

Rune squinted up at the tower that bridged the road. There was the briefest flicker of movement in one of the windows.

“Might just be a bird.”

Sapphire rolled her eyes. “It’s not a bird, you moron. It’s a trap. See that pile of rocks up there?” She nodded at the walkway across the path they were traveling on. “They drop that on us to block the road and take us by surprise. Then, when we’re disoriented, they gut us, take our supplies and leave us for dead.”

“If you’re so sure, then why don’t we just go around it?”

“Because they’ve almost certainly already seen us. I’d wager there’s at least five arrows pointed at our pretty little heads right about now.”

Rune blanched. “So what do we do?”

“Still working on that part.” Sapphire ducked into the brush on the side of the road, pulling him behind her. “Follow my lead.”

Two arrows whistled down and thudded into the earth where they’d just been standing. Sapphire crept through the dense bushes, keeping her body low to the ground. Rune followed close behind her. Sapphire led him wide of the tower, circling around to the other side as quietly as she could.

“Where the hell did they go?” a rough voice called out from above.

“If you let them get away I swear on all the Divines I’ll string every last one of you up by your ankles!” a different voice roared.

Arrows whizzed into the brush around them. Sapphire swore under her breath and grabbed Rune by his shoulder, forcing him closer to the ground. “Damn it, stay low!” she hissed, keeping her eyes forward.

They were most of the way past the tower now. Up ahead was a stream; Sapphire could hear water rushing, and the plants they were using to provide cover had begun to thin out.

“Listen to me carefully,” she whispered to Rune. “When we get to the riverbank, we’re going to cut back onto the road. As soon as your boots hit dirt I want you to run like hell. Don’t look back, and don’t stop running until you can see Whiterun. Got it?”

Rune nodded. His face was hard.

The ground transitioned from mossy earth to sandy mud beneath Sapphire’s boots. She could see the water of the stream just ahead, refracting sunlight as it rushed along—

“Now!”

Sapphire veered back onto the path and took off at a sprint with Rune close on her heels. There was a great deal of indistinct shouting from behind them, much closer than Sapphire would have liked. She didn’t dare look back. They were outnumbered and outarmed. She knew all too well what was going to happen to them—to _her—_ if the bandits managed to capture them. She would rather die than ever go through that again.

Her heels pounded the earth as she ran, kicking up dust behind her. Rune was faster than her by far, and shot out ahead. She followed close behind him, hoping that their archers’ aim at this distance was poor enough to save her from being speared with an arrow. She could survive a hit to a limb, but it would definitely slow her down.

Their pursuers were getting closer. Sapphire risked a glance over her shoulder—one of them was almost upon her, she could practically smell the stench of sour sweat and stale alcohol on his breath—he reached for her waist—

Her heart racing in her chest, she reached for her knife and threw it at him as hard as she could. It thudded squarely into the center of his chest, embedding itself up to the hilt. He crumpled to the ground, screaming and writhing, and didn’t get back up.

Sapphire ran faster than she ever had in her life, not daring to take another glimpse back. It felt like an eternity before the sound of pursuing footsteps behind them finally faded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing this chapter! I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story so far :)


	3. Bloodstone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by [SunPraiser31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunPraiser31)!

The sight of Whiterun's thick stone walls rising up in the distance had been a welcome balm on Sapphire's frayed nerves, but she didn't allow herself to relax until she and Rune were seated at a table by the fire with their backs to the wall at the Bannered Mare.

Rune paid for two bowls of hearty potato and bacon stew and two mugs of strong mead. Sapphire stole the coin back out of the pocket of the pretty white-haired girl who served it to them as soon as she turned her back. She scoffed when Rune shot her a reproachful look. The both of them were thieves by trade, after all. She'd never understood why people always expected her to have morals.

The mead was good, and it felt wonderful to tug her boots from her feet and shake out the gravel that had found its way inside while they were fleeing the highwaymen. Sapphire closed her eyes and sighed, letting the heat from the fire seep into her bones.

Rune had been uncharacteristically silent since they had arrived at the inn, largely because he hadn’t stopped stuffing his mouth since they sat down. He polished off his third bowl of stew and sat back with a sigh.

“We should gather some supplies before we continue on in the morning. Not many places to stop between here and the Reach.”

Sapphire made a noncommittal noise.

“How much gold do you have on you right now?” Rune dug through his pockets and dumped a meager pile of septims out onto the rough wood of the table. They glinted dully in the firelight.

“What does it matter?” Sapphire replied, glancing at him through one cracked eyelid.

“Well, we’ve got to buy some bread and salted meat for the road, don’t we?”

“Buy.” Sapphire rolled her eyes. “Are you a thief or aren’t you?”

“When I need to be.”

“I can’t believe you’ve made it this far.”

Rune shrugged. “I steal when I have to, or when Brynjolf tells me to. Otherwise, I see no reason to harm innocent folk.”

Sapphire shrugged and stretched. Her hand brushed her empty scabbard, and she froze. “Shit! My knife.”

“Your knife?” Rune raised an eyebrow.

“I left it in one of those thugs back there.” She cursed colorfully. “Can’t go back to that house unarmed. It was absolutely swarming with mercs the last time I was there. Nasty ones.”

“Fine. We’ll buy you a new one.” Rune started gathering up his pile of coins. Sapphire shook her head.

“No way. That isn’t even enough for a hunk of iron I could shape myself.” She retrieved her boots and tugged them on; the leather was warm from sitting next to the fire and felt good against her skin. “Come on. I have a better idea.”

 

~~~~~~

Masser and Secunda were high in the sky and the sound of crickets was thick in the air as the thieves ventured out into the night. They crept along side streets and in shadows, the sound of their feet muffled by the enchantment on their Guild-issued boots.

Craftsmen had yet to devise a lock that Sapphire couldn’t pick in under a minute. This one was no different. The pins fell into place under the deft touch of her pick, and the door swung inward.

Sapphire knew immediately that she’d chosen the right shop for her purposes. The walls were adorned with finely-wrought blades and shields, each piece lovingly finished by an expert smith. She almost felt bad rifling through the inventory. Almost.

She passed up several daggers of iron and steel; they were beautiful, true, but too heavy and clumsy for her liking. The locked glass case behind the counter, on the other hand…that had her attention. Inside was a wicked ebony dagger. The oiled flat of the blade gleamed even in the dull light. It had an exquisitely sharp edge that looked as if it could tear through a man’s throat with only the slightest twitch of its bearer’s wrist. The grip was inlaid with ribbons of gold that scrolled along its length in a vine-like fashion until they converged to form a pommel in the shape of a rose.

“Perfect.” Sapphire couldn’t help but be impressed. Untold hours and love had gone into the forging of this blade.

She slipped her pick into the lock. It gave her no more difficulty than the one on the door. It never failed to surprise her how little value merchants assigned to the mechanisms that were supposed to protect their wares. A lock was never a deterrent when it could be broken open by a child playing with a stick, after all.

As her hand closed around the grip, Sapphire couldn’t help but smile. It fit her hand perfectly. The blade was astonishingly light, and fast, and cut through the air without even a whisper. She slid it into the scabbard at her waist and nodded, satisfied.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Rune looked at her reproachfully. Upstairs, the woman sleeping in her bed tossed fitfully and murmured something under her breath in a distressed tone.

Sapphire glared back at him. Rune crossed his arms.

“…Gods _damnit._ Fine.” She rifled through the shelves behind the counter until she found an inkwell and a scrap of parchment. In a spiky script, she scrawled a note to the shopkeeper.

_A debt unpaid is not easily forgotten. One day what was stolen will be returned to you in full. This I swear on Nocturnal, Lady of Darkness._

She slipped the parchment into the case and locked it once more. With luck, the dagger’s absence wouldn’t be discovered until they were already well outside the city walls.

The thieves crept out as silently as they had come, vanishing into the night just as the boots of patrolling guards stomped past the front windows of the shop. For the moment, none were the wiser.

 

~~~~~~

Sapphire and Rune arose before the sun. Their bags were full to bursting with supplies; some Rune had purchased legitimately from the sweet, dark-haired woman who ran the vegetable cart in the market, and others Sapphire had pilfered from unattended stalls or skimmed from the pockets of passersby as they wandered about their business. By the time the city gates closed behind them, they were several dozen septims richer and had more than enough food to last the journey, even with Rune's tendency to eat like a starving man.

They encountered relatively few troubles on the road between Whiterun and Rorikstead. They gave the town itself a wide berth, circling around to the south of it and deep into the Sundered Hills.

It was here that Sapphire had been tasked to venture by Vex to retrieve the mirror. The land grew slowly from rolling hillocks into peaks that were mountains in their own right, despite being on the wrong side of the Karth river. Sapphire and Rune journeyed along narrow paths, up rocky slopes, past deep, still pools and torrential waterfalls. They camped just out of sight of the roads, fashioning shelter from fallen branches and leaves that anyone passing by wouldn't bother to look twice at.

Rune always took the first watch. Sometimes, when it was her turn to sleep, Sapphire would stir to see him sitting expressionless by the fire, holding the two runed stones together in his hand. She always rolled over and closed her eyes. Better not to mention it. Everyone had demons, after all. Some were just more tangible than others.

The house was hard to find, but Sapphire's feet remembered the way. It had been built into the sheer side of a rocky cliff. Its owner, an Imperial named Cedric Reuven, had probably thought of it as a fortress, but every fortress had some sort of weakness. Sapphire had certainly managed to exploit it.

This fortress's particular weakness came in the form of a narrow ledge that ran from the top of the cliff down to one of the windows overlooking the gorge. Springs ran close to the surface here, and as a result the rock was wet and treacherous, but for a trained thief or assassin it presented no challenge. Sapphire and Rune stashed their gear in a bush to retrieve later and followed the path down to its end.

Sapphire let Rune take point—it was his score to settle, after all—and followed close behind him, taking care to maintain sure footing. The two of them slipped silently through the window, seen by no one save the birds nesting in the sparse scrub brush that grew from the sides of the cliff.

Almost immediately, Sapphire was overwhelmed by the sense that something was wrong. The house was dark, and cold. There were no candles burning on the tables, and she could smell no smoke from the hearth. Where before there had been groups of highly trained mercenaries patrolling the corridors, now there was nothing. She strained her ears for any sound of boots on the stone floor and came up empty.

Reaching forward, she grabbed Rune's arm. "Step carefully," she hissed. "Something's happened."

The two of them moved silently through the darkened house as the sun slipped below the horizon, through abandoned corridors that were already coated with a thin layer of dust. They eventually came to a heavy wooden door, which Sapphire remembered from her earlier reconnaissance led to the kitchen. Rune looked back at her over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised. She nodded her assent. He grasped the iron handle and pulled the door open with a creak.

The smell hit her before she'd processed what she was seeing. Foul and cloying, it clung to the inside of her nose and made bile rise in her gullet. In the darkness of the room, she could just make out the shadowy outlines of several figures slumped over the table.

She approached warily, not dismissing the notion that the threat was not yet past. Three paces from the table, her boot landed squarely in a pool of cold, half-congealed blood. It looked black in the gloom. She swore.

What remained of the mercenary company was gathered here, around the table, in a grotesque imitation of a banquet. To the last man, their throats were slashed from ear to ear. The killers had been efficient. Not a single one of the men had managed even to draw his blade. Two dozen trained fighters, dead likely before they'd even realized they'd been wounded.

"Where's Reuven?" Rune said urgently, circling the table and peering at the faces of the dead men.

Sapphire shook her head. "Not here. These are all Nords."

"Let's keep moving, then."

"Rune," Sapphire said softly. "I wouldn't be too optimistic that we're going to find him alive."

Rune's lips pressed into a thin line. "Come on."

More bodies littered the ground as they passed through the house, blood pooling thick and syrupy on the flagstones. Sapphire cursed on behalf of her boots. She was never going to manage to get the stains out of the leather. It was a shame they hadn't been enchanted to be waterproof.

They combed the rest of the house for the sake of thoroughness, but they needn't have bothered. They found Reuven at his desk in the same chamber in which Sapphire had found the runed stone. One might have thought he was sleeping, were it not for the wound that violently bisected his face in a monstrous imitation of a smile. The safe stood open, its interior bare. The room was littered in shredded documents. Drawers were open, their contents scattered carelessly. Pots of ink had been smashed, and their splattered contents mingled with the irregular spray of blood on the walls.

Rune cursed and kicked a dresser. It wobbled and fell to the ground with an ear-splitting crash.

Sapphire laid a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Rune shook his head. "No." He made a fist. "No! We came all this way. There has to be _something._ Anything." His eyes flicked to Sapphire's, wild and desperate. "Help me look. Please."

Sapphire was reasonably certain that if anything of importance had been here, whoever had slaughtered the entire household had certainly taken it with them. But for once, she bit her tongue and began sifting through the detritus. Rune was in no condition to be reasoned with.

The ink-stained papers yielded nothing useful. Census papers, personal correspondence from Cyrodil, shipping manifests. Sapphire let the crumpled parchment fall to the ground and examined the corpse with interest.

Reuven hadn't been dead long. Blood had settled in irregular purple blotches, leaving the rest of his skin waxen and unnaturally pale, but his body was still stiff and had yet to bloat. She touched the edge of the wound in his face with a gloved finger.

"There's something in his mouth."

Rune, who had been in the process of taking out his frustrations on what remained of the furniture, immediately stopped what he was doing and strode over to the desk. "What is it?"

Sapphire grimaced as she slipped her finger past the dead man's lips. It took some effort to ease his jaw open enough to remove the object, but at last she managed to prize it free.

  
In her hand sat a stone. It was round and flat, and polished so that it shone like glass. It was the color of blood. Inscribed into its surface was a crude etching of a snake eating its own tail.

Rune's gaze met Sapphire's. "What does it mean?"

Sapphire shook her head. "I don't know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens! Please consider leaving me a comment if you're enjoying the story so far. I'd love to hear your thoughts :)


	4. Ouroboros

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read, as always, by the delightful [SunPraiser31!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunPraiser31)

Rune set his tankard down on the table with a loud thunk, and there was an uneasy silence.

Secunda was surely low in the sky by now. It had been night already when the two thieves rode through the Riften gates, and hours more had passed while Rune recounted the events of their travels for Brynjolf, Vex, and Delvin. The five of them sat around a filthy table in the Ragged Flagon, mugs of lukewarm beer in hand and candles guttering low on the table.

“That’s quite a tale, lad,” Brynjolf said finally. “It seems the two of you have gotten yourselves neck-deep in trouble.”

Sapphire grimaced. “That would be an understatement. Those men weren’t just killed. They were butchered. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Could be Brotherhood,” Vex reasoned. “It’d take a lot of gold, but if someone put out a contract—”

Delvin shook his head. “No. The Brotherhood doesn’t operate that way. They may not have morals, but they’re discreet. This isn’t their style.” He turned to Rune. “You said you found something in Reuven’s mouth?”

Rune nodded.

“Go on then, let’s have it.”

The bloodstone with its etched carving glimmered dully in the candlelight as Rune placed it in the center of the table. “Do you know what it is?”

Delvin peered at it closely. “Well, I know what it isn’t—the Brotherhood’s calling card. Not sure about the stone, it doesn’t appear to be valuable, but this—” he traced the snake carving with his finger. “Is an ouroboros. I’m a bit rusty on my lore, but the ancient Nords believed a great serpent like this one encircled the world. When it releases its tail, Tamriel will descend into chaos.”

“History lessons don’t help us here,” Vex snapped. “Someone murdered our mark. Why did they do it? And does it have anything to do with us?”

“I’m not omniscient, love.” Delvin shrugged.

“Truer words were never spoken.” She turned to Brynjolf. “This is bad. If whoever took out a contract on Reuven was after the mirror we stole, they could be coming for us next. Your little mission just put our entire operation in jeopardy.”

“How was I to know what they’d find?” Brynjolf’s eyes flashed. “We’re family, Vex. We help each other. As I see it, this is a good thing. If Rune and Sapphire hadn’t gone back to that house, we’d have no idea a threat was coming. Now that we do, we can try to get a leg up on it.”

“And how exactly do you plan to do that?”

“We’ll think of something.”

The Flagon lapsed into silence again, broken only by the soft snoring of Vekel the Man, who had nodded off in his chair behind the bar, and the soft drip of water down damp stone walls.

Delvin’s face was inscrutable, but Sapphire knew there were wheels turning behind it. He was nothing if not crafty, and it was his business to know all the whisperings in Skyrim. Being confronted with something he didn’t recognize had to be a thorn in his arse.

“Why an ouroboros?” he murmured, turning the stone over and over in his hand as if he thought it might impart some hidden knowledge. The stone remained every bit as taciturn as it had been before.

“Has it ever occurred to you that you might be asking the wrong person?” a voice, polished and haughty, said from the direction of the water.

Everyone at the table froze and turned to see Galathil setting the tome she had been silently poring over aside with an expression of profound disdain. It was easy to forget that the face sculptor also inhabited their space. Mutual dislike meant that they rarely interacted unless a job mandated that they do so, and even then their dialogue was limited to the exchange of coin.

There was something about the woman that made Sapphire’s skin crawl. She looked at the members of the Guild like they were beetles beneath her boots—ubiquitous companions here in the underworld by necessity, but pests nonetheless, like the skeevers that scurried through the tunnels just outside. Sapphire had never known her to embroil herself in Guild politics.

“Give the stone to me,” Galathil demanded, holding out an expectant palm.

“What would you know about it?”

“I have told you time and time again I'm no amateur illusionist,” Galathil sneered. “The stone. Give it to me.”

Delvin hesitated, his eyes flicking to Brynjolf’s. The Guildmaster nodded, and Delvin dropped it into her hand.

Galathil’s lips curled into an unsettling smile. “I have encountered this mark only once before, when I walked among the hollow-faced men of Nohotoghra, but I have encountered it. Everywhere it appears it is accompanied by chaos and bloodshed. Your organization’s fate seems to hang in the balance.”

“Whose mark is it?” Delvin leaned in.

“I have heard whispers, and only whispers, of a legion that operates in the shadows. They are followers of Molag Bal, and their sole purpose is to sow discord among the realms of mer and men. I have only seen glimpses of their work, but if I were you, I would be very concerned.”

“A guild of assassins, then,” Delvin reasoned. “Like the Brotherhood.”

“No, not like the Dark Brotherhood. Your associates, who style themselves master assassins, fulfill contracts for coin just as a whore spreads her legs for the right number of septims. Molag Bal’s followers do not kill for gold or personal gain. They cannot be bought. They kill for conviction, at the behest of their lord, and that makes them infinitely more dangerous.”

“And what would they want with us?” Brynjolf asked.

Galathil peered at him down her nose. “How am I to know? Your mistakes are not mine to rectify. More’s the pity,” she sighed, glancing around the Flagon. “These sewers are fetid, but I had gotten quite comfortable here.”

“They’ll have to cut every last one of us down before they get to the Cistern,” Vex growled.

“That will pose no challenge to them.” Galathil looked as though she pitied her. “In times past, they would slaughter entire cities at Molag Bal’s command. If their lord has ordered your death, there is naught you can do to prevent it.”

The hairs on the back of Sapphire’s neck stood on end. Daedric princes and political gambits—this was way above her pay grade. She mentally cursed the day that Maven Black-Briar had brought her into the fold, and the botched job that had led her to be in Rune’s debt in the first place. Such a simple mistake both times; she’d been caught with her fingers in the wrong pockets. This was much too high a price to pay for such foolishness.

“Well,” Brynjolf said, breaking the tense silence. “That’s certainly discouraging.”

“What do you know about these?” Rune pulled the two runed stones from his pocket and set them on the table.

“Hmm.” Galathil picked one up lightly and turned it over, examining the markings in the candlelight. “I know not what tongue these runes are inscribed in, nor do I know their meaning.”

Rune’s face fell. “So that’s that, then. No closer to an answer than I was the day I started searching.”

“You’d do well to exercise some patience,” Galathil snapped. “I may not be able to interpret the markings, but I never said they were unknown to me. In point of fact, I’ve seen a stone like this one once before.”

Rune’s eyes were hard. “Where?”

“In the hand of a woman. A thief, like you. Dunmer. With the quality of shadows about her.”

Delvin swore under his breath.

“Karliah.” Brynjolf frowned grimly. “I should’ve known she was hiding something from us. I wanted to believe we were past the cloak and dagger business, but I guess in our line of work it never really ends.” He glared at Galathil. “Why did you not bring this to our attention?”

She scoffed. “You never asked.”

Exhaustion clawed at Sapphire’s mind, making it run ragged and grey. She drained her tankard of sour ale and dropped it on the table with a clatter. The other thieves started at the loud noise and turned to look at her.

“It’s late,” she said flatly. “I’m worn down to the bone, and I’m sure Rune is too. So what if Karliah’s a traitor? She’ll still be a traitor in the morning.”

“Aye, the lass has a point,” Brynjolf admitted, rubbing his beard. “I’m not wont to condemn Karliah just yet. We’ve done it once before while the real traitor fed off the rest of us like a vampire off cattle. Perhaps we should let her speak for herself.”

“I sent her out on a fishing job a few days back,” Delvin offered. “She should be back any time now.”

“Then we wait for her to return. Until then, this stays between us. Are we clear?” Brynjolf looked around the table, making eye contact with every last one of them. “If I get wind that any of you have breathed a word of this, Molag Bal will be the least of your worries.”

Sapphire met his gaze without blinking. “Make no mistake,” she said, looking deep into his eyes. “If it turns out she did betray us and she sets one foot in the Cistern, I’ll cut it off.”

~~~~~~

It took two days and a night for Karliah to finally materialize in the Ratway. Sapphire whiled away the time as best she could, honing her ebony dagger to a razor’s edge, taking out her frustrations on the unfortunate straw dummies in the training room, drinking herself sick with Maul’s unlikely company at the Black-Briar meadery.

She was grateful for the time she was able to spend in Grelka’s arms. The nature of her work kept her busy; it was rare that she was able to steal an hour, an evening, a night without having to devote her thoughts to the machinations of larceny. For the moment, though, there were no jobs forthcoming. Her instructions were to lay low and stay close, so that was exactly what she did. To hell with blood and coin and scores to settle. For the moment, she was content with Grelka’s warm skin against her own and a belly full of honey wine.

Her respite was short-lived. Sapphire started at the gentle squeeze of Delvin’s hand on her shoulder as she sat drinking at the meadery bar on the evening of the second day. He gestured with a subtle nod for her to follow him.

“It’s time.”

The boards of the walkways that ringed the canal creaked in protest under their boots as the two made their way past the market and the Hall of the Dead, down pathways of cracked stone with nightshade and deathbell sprouting in between.

Delvin looked like shit. Sapphire realized faintly that she’d never seen him out in the sunlight before. He lived his life below ground, and it showed. His skin was pasty, even for a Breton, and the haggard lines of his face seemed more pronounced, somehow, in the light of the fading sun.

The events of the past year had taken a toll on him. On all of them. Mercer’s betrayal had shaken their organization to its very core, and the void he’d left in their coffers was one that they would likely be working for years to fully recover from. Sapphire was young; she’d only been running with them for a few years, but Delvin had dedicated decades of his life to the Guild. She could only imagine what watching your life’s work vanish like water down a filthy drain did to a man.

Delvin pressed his gloved fingertips to the shadowmark on the sarcophagus, and with a familiar mechanical grinding it slid away to reveal the entrance to the Cistern. The two descended into darkness one after the other, and the passageway sealed shut behind them.

Brynjolf, Vex, and Rune were already waiting for them in the depths of the Cistern, with grim expressions on their faces as water splashed down all around them. None of the underlings were anywhere to be seen—Sapphire wouldn’t have been surprised if they’d been paid off to clear out for the night. She’d never seen the Cistern so empty. It felt strange, almost funereal, with only the sounds of rushing water and the squeaking of the occasional skeever to fill the silence.

“Karliah’s in the Flagon,” Brynjolf said, forgoing any greeting. “I’ve asked Tonilia to send her our way once she’s been paid for her job. I’ve also taken the liberty of informing Maven that we may have a situation. Needless to say, she’s not pleased.”

That didn’t surprise Sapphire in the slightest. Maven Black-Briar loved two things in the entire world: coin, and power. She would sell her own child for even a taste of real authority without a second thought. And given that the Guild’s success was the driving force behind her fortune, the threat to its survival probably had her in a fit of apoplexy right about now.

Sapphire smirked to herself. If things went sideways and they all ended up rotting in Oblivion, at least it would knock the bitch down a few pegs.

“Remember,” Brynjolf reminded, “Karliah is blood. Galathil isn’t. We’ve mistakenly accused her of treason once before, and it cost us dearly. Let her speak her piece before anyone flies off the handle.”

“Agreed,” Vex chimed in. “For now.”

The next few moments passed in relative silence, all of them standing together to face what was about to come. The sound of quiet, almost imperceptible footsteps on wet stone was a relief on Sapphire’s frazzled nerves. She detested waiting. Better to pull the knife out and get on with it.

Karliah approached slowly, eyeing the five of them and their grim expressions as if she were sizing them up. “Brynjolf,” she said with a nod as she reached the congregation outside the vault doors. “I’m told you wish to see me?”

“Aye, lass, that I do, and I wish it were under better circumstances.” Brynjolf sighed through his teeth. “You see, I find myself looking down the business end of a very convincing threat to the integrity of this organization, and now that I’m made aware of its existence, I’ve also come to find out that you haven’t been entirely truthful with me.”

Karliah’s brows knit. “What are you talking about?”

“Does this look familiar?” Rune pulled the stone from his pocket and held it up. “Galathil says she saw you carrying one of these.”

She squinted at it for a moment in the low light, and then chuckled. “You’ve got it all wrong, Brynjolf.”

The Guildmaster crossed his arms. “Enlighten me, then.”

Karliah reached into a satchel and pulled out a stone—polished smooth, with carved runes marring its surface. It matched the two that Rune carried exactly. “You’re right, I do carry one. But it isn’t mine. It belonged to Mercer.”

Sapphire bristled. The bastard still had his hooks in them, even from beyond the grave.

Brynjolf’s face betrayed nothing. “Keep talking.”

“After Mercer’s death, I took the liberty of combing through his house. I suspected there was more to his betrayal than met the eye. He was a servant of Nocturnal, after all, pledged to protect her shrine in life and in death. It should have taken more than simple greed to corrupt his loyalties. In my search, I found this.” She handed the stone over to Rune, who squeezed it in his hand like he was trying to reduce it to gravel.

“Mercer hid it well. It was protected by an exceptionally complicated puzzle lock and a number of enchantments, but I was able to find it. I knew it had to be important, so I took it with me.”

Karliah pulled one of her gauntlets from her hand with difficulty and let it fall to the floor. Sapphire recoiled; the flesh beneath it was blackened and withered, reduced to the near-skeletal quality of a draugr’s. It looked as if it pained her greatly.

“I escaped with my life, but Mercer was nothing if not smart. His mark is on me, and there it will stay until the end of my days.”

“What does the stone do?” Brynjolf asked. “Why is it worth protecting?”

“I don’t know everything, but I have been able to discern some of the answers with the help of Lady Nocturnal.” Karliah flexed her charred fingers and made an expression of discomfort. “Since you’re confronting me in this fashion, I’ll assume you’re already aware of the existence of the cult of Molag Bal.”

“Yes, and we don't have time to waste. So get on with it.” Vex was unforgiving, her eyes hard and face set into harsh lines. Sapphire knew that she had never fully accepted Karliah back into the fold. Vex didn’t trust easily, and once that trust was broken it was near-impossible to get back.

“Forgive me,” Karliah said reproachfully. “I only want to be sure that there is no question as to where my loyalties lie. Everything I have done, I have done with the best interest of the Guild in mind. The last time I placed my trust in the wrong person, I ended up with a knife in my back.” She held out her undamaged hand to Rune. “May I have the stone back?”

He handed it over with some reluctance and Karliah brought it to the Guildmaster’s desk, pushing aside Brynjolf’s tome of numbers and inkwell. She reached into a pouch at her waist and pulled out a fistful of dark powder. This she scattered in a thin layer across the polished wood.

“Watch closely.”

Karliah set the stone in the center of the powder, which immediately began to ripple and shift. Some of it clung to the surface of the stone, forming little spikes like hedgehog quills, while the rest arranged itself into concentric rings around it.

Sapphire furrowed her brow.

“What’s that powder?” Delvin said with curiosity, leaning in.

“Iron filings.” Karliah indicated the patterns around the pebble. “This is a lodestone. They’re exceedingly rare—though they hold no monetary value.” She glanced at Delvin, as if she knew that he was already trying to calculate how much something like this could be worth to the right buyer. “The cult of Molag Bal uses these to mark those who are untouchable. Their lord is a being of pure discord. Magnetism—” she indicated the rings around the stone— “is an ordering force. As long as one carries a lodestone, they cannot harm you.”

“What about the runes?”

“They’re old Daedric, archaic even by their standards. I have only a rough translation.”

Rune laid a hand on Karliah’s shoulder. “What do they say?”

She turned, violet eyes meeting his solemnly. 

“Order through chaos.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> Only three more chapters to go (I think)! If you're enjoying the story so far, I'd love to hear your thoughts <3


	5. Razor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by [SunPraiser31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunPraiser31)!

The Ratway had lapsed into a fragile and uneasy silence.

Though the Guild’s headquarters had been positively bustling with activity since Mercer’s death months ago, new recruits dropping in left and right as it slowly reclaimed its riches and reputation, all of those operations were suspended for the moment. Delvin, Vex, and Tonilia were keeping their people close, sending them out only on small jobs within the Rift. Most folk were under no instruction at all except to remain inside the city walls. Sapphire had seen them congregating around the marketplace, eyeing the vendors’ heavy pockets with undisguised longing. She frowned to herself in dismay. The longer everyone was cooped up like this, the higher the likelihood that eventually someone would succumb to temptation and expose them all to the guards.

Rune didn’t seem to share her concern. He’d been cooped up in the Flagon since their confrontation with Karliah, who, after divulging what she knew, had set out on a pilgrimage to a place she referred to as the Twilight Sepulcher to seek more information. Sapphire found him there, shoulders hunched over the bar, stinking of sweat and alcohol and looking like he hadn’t slept in days. He shot her a sidelong glance as she slid onto the stool next to him, daring her to say something.

“Planning on sitting here and drinking yourself to death until the bricks crash down on our pretty little heads?”

“Rot in Oblivion.” He knocked back what was left of the mead in his mug and set it down on the bar with a thunk. Digging around in his pockets, he withdrew a handful of septims and dropped them unceremoniously on the counter. “Another.”

Vekel refilled it without comment, though he shot a glance at Sapphire.

“Never known you to act like this,” Sapphire remarked as Rune took a long draught. “I thought you wanted answers. Now that you’re finally getting some you’re just going to bury yourself in the sand like a mudcrab and sulk?”

“I always thought,” Rune said hoarsely, wiping his mouth. “That my parents and I were on a ship that was lost during a storm, or set upon by pirates. Now I come to find out that they were likely murdered instead, and all because the Daedra consider us playthings for their games of chance.” 

He held up his fist, which Sapphire now noticed was tightly clenching his lodestone. 

“I’ve been carrying this all my life. I thought that if I could just figure out what it meant, I would have…I don’t know, some kind of closure. But instead all I get is more questions.”

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t just affect you,” Sapphire said coldly. “This isn’t a personal score to settle anymore. It threatens our entire livelihood. I need you sober and relatively in one piece for what’s going to happen next.”

“Fuck sobriety.” Rune drained his mug once more and dropped more coin on the counter. “Another.”

“No,” Sapphire said, holding up a hand. “Not another drop. Vekel, he’s cut off. Don’t serve him any more.”

Vekel shrugged. “His coin’s as good as yours, Sapphire.”

“And the edge of my knife is very sharp, as you’ll find out quickly when it’s pressed against your throat. Take a walk.”

Vekel spat onto the filthy stone floor. “N’chow. Fine. But you can find a new watering hole to use from now on.”

“Not a problem.”

Vekel stared daggers at Sapphire as he walked off with his broom. Sapphire met his gaze evenly, without blinking.

Rune groaned to himself and stood, shoving his stool back roughly from the counter.

“Where are you going?”

“To the meadery. If I can’t get peace here, I’ll just drink somewhere else.”

“And I’m sure Maven will be more than happy to let you rot in a jail cell after Indaryn throws you out on your arse for causing a scene, provided Maul doesn’t turn you inside out first.” Sapphire laid a hand on his shoulder and he swatted it away. She gritted her teeth in frustration. 

“ _Rune._ Listen to me. The past is the past. It’s set in stone. There’s nothing you can do to change it now, and you’re not going to find the answers you want in the bottom of that mug. Believe me, I’ve been there. It doesn’t help a whit. What you _can_ do is your damn job. When Delvin hears back from his contacts in the Brotherhood, we need to move fast. We need you on your feet and dried out. Can you manage?”

Rune looked back at her sullenly, swaying a bit as he tried to stand straight, but eventually nodded.

Sapphire sighed. “Good. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. You reek of mead and it’s turning my stomach.”

~~~~~~

Delvin's contacts in the Dark Brotherhood proved themselves valuable for the umpteenth time. A reply to his probe for information fell into the dead drop less than a day after it had been received, and it looked promising.

It also meant they had work to do. Like the Guild, the Brotherhood were staunch believers in never giving anything away for free. If the thieves wanted the location of Molag Bal's sanctum, they were going to have to pull a job.

"I don't see why they can't do it themselves," Rune groused, folding his arms and looking decidedly hungover. "Thief, assassin—no matter how you style it, the skill sets are very similar. You'd think they could handle breaking into a house on their own."

"Be grateful they're not asking for more," Delvin said darkly. "Nazir is letting us off easy. He owes me several favors, and I had to call them all in for this. All we have to do is get the knife for them. Even Dirge should be able to handle a job like this, but I'm not taking any chances. You're both going."

"Great." Sapphire rolled her eyes. "You want High King Torygg's crown jewels while we're at it?"

"Don't get cocky."

"Relax, Delvin, it'll be fine. We'll meet you and your contact in Dawnstar when the job is done. Three days, you have my word."

"You have two. Nazir and I will be waiting at the Windpeak Inn. Don't disappoint me."

~~~~~~

Sapphire had never been fond of the northern holds. She hated the way the wind was incessant there, tearing at her skin like it was trying to get inside. She hated the way the ground was simultaneously always frozen and muddy somehow, and the way the frigid muck seeped into her boots with every step.

The people were no better, just as dull and lifeless as the landscapes surrounding them, any Nordic fire within them having long cooled in the encroaching frost. She vastly preferred Riften, with its temperate climate and the hot springs that ran through the hold, creating lovely warm bathing pools and occasional gusts of steam that looked almost like dragon's breath if you squinted hard enough.

That being said, she really had to hand it to the people of Dawnstar. If there was anything they could do well, it was distill a good vodka. She begrudgingly admitted the food at the inn wasn't bad either, after downing a bowl of fried dumplings stuffed with venison and cheese and covered with a rich, savory broth that came cheaply enough that she actually paid for it. Her belly full and the warm buzz of alcohol numbing her skin to the cold, she ventured out into the night with Rune by her side as snow fell thickly around them.

The house they were after was on the north end of the town, close to the sea. Its owner had decorated the front with a series of crimson banners depicting a dawning sun, which had long since soaked through and then frozen almost solid in the storm. They hung at odd angles, defying the hungry wind that tore at their edges. No light glowed from the window panes, and the chimney was devoid of the expected plume of smoke from the cooking fire.

"Looks like no one's home," Rune remarked.

"Looks can be deceiving."

The two of them kept out of sight, taking shelter in the shadow of a nearby house as a guard patrol rounded the corner. Fat snowflakes melted in midair as they drifted down to meet the burning torches they held aloft. They needn't have bothered; the snowstorm had reduced visibility to near-nothing, and short of actually colliding with one of them Sapphire was hard-pressed to think of a way the guards would be alerted to their presence. Though she resented the squall, it did make for excellent cover.

She darted forward when the faint glow of torchlight finally vanished around the next corner, the soles of her boots slipping on the banks of thick powder. The lock was a simple one, and succumbed as quickly as a lover to the touch of her skilled fingers. The door swung inward, and the two of them slipped inside.

The interior of the house was unimpressive. Though it had been fitted with shelves and display cases and festooned with banners in an attempt to make it look like a museum, it was still unmistakably someone's home. A small cot sat in one corner near the cold hearth, rumpled clothes slung carelessly over its end. 

The owner was conspicuously absent. That troubled Sapphire. On a night like this she would have expected every sane soul in the hold to be huddled in their beds until the storm passed. 

Rune wandered the perimeter of the single room, peering into the display cases.

“Anything good?”

He shook his head. “Just some tomes and moth-eaten robes. I don’t understand why anyone would bother locking this junk up.”

“Good thing we’re not here for that, then.” Sapphire dug in her pocket for her lockpick. “Do you see the dagger?”

“No, this all just looks like junk to me—wait.” Rune peered into one of the cases. “This looks like a dagger, but it’s shattered into a dozen pieces.”

“Let me see.”

The blade inside the display case was indeed broken. It appeared that someone had gone to great pains to destroy it, even going so far as to splinter the obsidian orb that was set into the pommel. Whoever had placed it in the display case had gone to a lot of effort arranging the pieces so that they still suggested the shape of a knife, but the blade was entirely useless as a weapon.

Rune cursed. “What do we do?”

“Delvin said fetch the knife. He didn’t say it had to be in one piece,” Sapphire reasoned, slotting her picks into the lock. The pins fell into place easily, and the tumblers squeaked as she turned it. The latch snicked open.

The dagger lay there in pieces, glinting dangerously in what precious little moonlight filtered in through the snowstorm.

“Let’s just wrap it up,” Sapphire suggested. “We’ll deal with the details later.” She reached into the pouch at her belt and drew out a length of wool cloth.

“What in Oblivion do you think you’re doing?!”

The exclamation from behind them was accompanied by a sudden gust of icy air. Sapphire’s heart dropped into her boots. She and Rune wheeled around to find themselves confronted by a man, who stood blocking the open doorway. He was presumably the house’s owner—an Imperial, dressed in long vermilion robes that clashed horrendously with his jaundiced skin and depicted the same dawning sun crest as the banners on the walls.

“Shit,” Sapphire breathed. 

Caught in the act. They were supposed to be better than this. The man had seen their faces. That would be worth a lashing from Maven at the best of times; now, when the Guild’s fate was at its most critical, the repercussions were far worse.

“Get the dagger,” she muttered to Rune, thrusting the cloth toward him. He took it and nodded, reaching into the case and retrieving the pieces.

“Put those back!” the man howled, advancing on them. “The shards of Mehrunes’ Razor are relics of my ancestors! I won’t let you take them!”

Sapphire’s hand drifted to the grip of her knife. “I don’t want to hurt you,” she warned, “but I will if I have to. We need the knife. It’s a matter of life and death.”

“This is my life’s work.” The man’s eyes were wild, the veins in his forehead bulging with rage. “I won’t let you filthy thieves take it away from me!”

He launched himself at Sapphire, who jumped out of the way, evading his clumsy swing at her jaw. The man stumbled forward, tripping on the hem of his robes.

“Rune, get out of here!” Sapphire shouted. “I’ll catch up with you.”

“But—”

_“Go!”_

Rune stuffed the cloth-wrapped knife shards into his pocket and ran, dodging around Sapphire as she and the cultist circled one another. He paused in the doorway for only an instant, glancing back at her with concern, and then vanished into the snow.

Sapphire breathed a sigh of relief. They had the shards—that was the most important part of the job done, even if they’d botched the rest.

The man had regained his footing. “You little whore,” he spat. “I’m going to cut your head from your shoulders, and then Lord Dagon can do what he likes with the rest of you.”

Something glinted in his fisted hand. A blade—Sapphire hadn’t seen him draw it, but regardless of where it had come from it would cut her all the same.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve killed a man, but I have no qualms with it.” She circled him, keeping her eyes on the weapon in his hand. “I’d rather not have to deal with the mess, though. Drop your knife.”

The man snarled and threw himself at her, the point of his dagger slicing through the air on a trajectory for her throat. Sapphire parried his strike with her own, knocking his blade from his grip. It clattered to the floor, coming to a stop several feet away.

Undeterred by the loss of his weapon, the man seized her around the neck and squeezed. Sapphire choked, gasping for air as his fist tightened around her windpipe. 

Something in her neck cracked unpleasantly as stars began to spot her vision. She scrabbled at his hands, but they were like vises. She couldn’t find purchase.

The world began to go dark. As her lungs screamed out in agony for air, Sapphire summoned the last bit of her strength and drove her dagger deep into his belly.

The man released her with a howl, stumbling backward and clutching his abdomen as thick, dark gouts of blood poured from the wound. Sapphire fell to her knees, choking on the air she sucked in. Her lungs burned, and her throat was already beginning to swell and ached fiercely, but she was alive. Her heart thudded out a frantic rhythm in her chest.

She snatched up her dagger from where it had fallen on the floor and got unsteadily to her feet. Without sparing a glance at the man dying on the floor, she turned on her heel and ran.

~~~~~~

Sapphire’s heart was still pounding long after she was safe, holed up in the basement of the Windpeak Inn with Rune. There was viscous blood soaked into the grain of the leather of her armor. She felt like she could taste it, metallic, on her tongue.

The hour or so they had to wait before Delvin finally showed himself was agonizing. Sapphire hated every second, hated the way that every creak of boots on the floorboards above made her jump as if the entirety of the Dawnstar guard were on their way to clap her in irons. Likely, no one was the wiser to what she’d done. With luck, the man’s body wouldn’t be found until morning, or possibly even the following night if the storm continued.

Delvin arrived exactly on time, though the wait seemed like an eternity. As he descended into the cellar, he was flanked by a tall Redguard man in robes the color of brick. His eyes were deep brown and carried in them a strange fire. He wore a series of golden rings woven into his beard, and carried an evil-looking scimitar on his hip.

“See you’re both in one piece,” Delvin remarked as they drew closer. “How’d it go?”

“Had a few problems.” Sapphire’s mouth twisted.

“What kind of—” Delvin broke off, having drawn close enough to see the blood spattered across her armor. “Gods damnit. You spilled blood.”

“Not because I wanted to,” Sapphire growled.

The newcomer, who up until this point had been observing the three of them with interest, laughed. His voice was deep—it seemed to fill the entire room, thrumming through the very stones beneath Sapphire’s feet.

“You should know by now that in our business an extra body here or there is inconsequential,” he remarked, looking at Delvin. “Silus was a pest. I can think of several people who’d be glad to be rid of him.”

“It’s not our way, Nazir.” Delvin shook his head. “I’m sure you did what you had to do, Sapphire, but you’ll still have to answer to Brynjolf.”

“Fine.” She ground her teeth. “Let’s get on with it.”

“Did you at least manage to steal the dagger?”

“That’s the other problem,” Rune said, pulling the wadded up cloth from his pocket and unfolding it on the table to reveal the shards.

An unsettling smile curled Nazir’s lips. “Mehrunes’ Razor,” he said lovingly, tracing a fingertip along the crossbar. “Home at last.”

“It’s broken,” Sapphire stated somewhat unnecessarily. “What use could you possibly have for a pile of junk like this?”

“Blades can be reforged.” Nazir picked up a fragment, examining it in the light. “What do you know about this weapon?”

Sapphire shrugged. “It’s Daedric. I try to steer clear of Daedra. Less complicated that way.”

"Smart girl." Nazir balanced the shard on the tip of his finger. "Mehrunes' Razor has a long and bloody history, even by the standards of my organization. It has a very particular power, one that's exceedingly useful in our line of work. The enchantments imbued within the metal give it the power to kill a man instantaneously, regardless of how inconsequential the wound. Can you imagine that kind of power?" Sapphire could hear the hunger in his voice. "To snuff out a life with only the slightest prick of its edge. Many have died in their quest to possess it. At one time, it nearly tore the Dark Brotherhood apart. And now, it's in our grasp once more."

"What do you want with it?" Rune asked apprehensively.

Nazir chuckled. "A tool for a task. Suffice it to say that we've taken on a very high-profile contract."

"You're better off not asking him anything else," Delvin cut in. "Trust me."

"I'll take your word for it." Sapphire sat back, feeling suddenly drained.

"Alright." Delvin turned to face Nazir. "We've held up our end of the bargain. Tit for tat."

"Of course." Nazir replaced the dagger fragment with the rest. "Secrets are not my business—I deal exclusively in death. But one does hear whispers. Occasionally, pleading. Secrets that should have been taken to the grave used instead as bargaining chips."

Sapphire raised an eyebrow.

"You'll find what you're looking for under the Serpent stone." Nazir folded up the shards in their cloth with reverence. "As to what the sanctum contains, I cannot say. The only man I've ever known who set foot inside is long dead."

"By your hand or Molag Bal's?" Delvin asked sourly.

Nazir smiled. "Some questions are better left unanswered."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I've done my plotting correctly, we've only got two chapters left! The answers Rune has been seeking his entire life are just within reach. I'm very excited for the next chapter :)
> 
> 6/24: I know I usually update this story every other Monday--I'm terribly sorry, but there's no update today. I'm working on the climactic chapter and I really want to take my time and make it perfect, so I'm pushing back the update so I have time to do it properly. I'm sorry for the delay and can't wait to share the finished version with you <3


	6. Anathema

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta read by [SunPraiser31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunpraiser31)!
> 
> Edit 7/20/19: Removed a scene that interrupted the flow of the story.

Delvin sent word to Brynjolf via courier early the next morning. “Go on ahead,” he instructed Rune and Sapphire. “Best you not linger until the guards find Silus’s body. Someone will meet you at the Frozen Hearth. Stay off the main road as much as you can.”

“Got it.” Sapphire slid her knife into its sheath and pocketed the rag and whetstone she’d been using to clean it. “Thanks, Delvin. We’ll see you when it’s over.”

“Thank you,” Rune echoed with a nod to Delvin, turning to head up the stairs.

Sapphire made to follow him, but Delvin laid a hand on her shoulder and held her back. She wheeled around to snap at him, but her words died on her tongue at the expression on his face.

“Do your best not to get killed,” he said gruffly.

“I always do.”

Delvin looked uncharacteristically soft, the lines on his face ones of worry and sentiment rather than exhaustion. Like Sapphire, he rarely let his hard exterior crack. It frightened her a bit to see him falling to pieces now.

“When this is over…” He hesitated. “We should talk.”

“About what?”

He shook his head. “This isn’t the time or the place. When things die down, meet me in the Flagon. There are some things you ought to know.”

“This incentive for me to stay alive?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Think of it as collateral.” Delvin squeezed her shoulder and then dropped his hand.

_Need-to-know._ Delvin never gave anyone one iota more information than they needed to do their job cleanly. Sapphire swallowed the questions that were rising in her throat, knowing that she might as well attempt to interrogate a brick wall, and nodded.

“Be seeing you, Delvin.”

“Get in quick, get out quiet.” He recited their creed like a prayer. “Don’t get caught.”

~~~~~~

If Sapphire had thought she disliked the weather in Dawnstar, that was nothing compared to Winterhold. The city was frigid, the kind of deadening chill that went deep into your bones and never really left no matter how long you sat in front of the fire or how much whiskey you drank.

Much of the city had been razed to the ground long ago thanks to a magical disturbance originating from the College, and what remained wasn’t much to look at. Without any surrounding walls to shelter it from the icy wind that blew in off the sea, the little shacks that passed for houses were left to take the brunt of the elements. No matter where Sapphire sat in the aptly-named Frozen Hearth Inn, there was a draft that raised goosebumps on her skin and left a coat of rime on her boots.

The two of them were able to do some trading with Enthir, fencing a handful of baubles and trinkets they’d picked up over the past week. Selling off the junk Sapphire had lifted from Cedric Reuven’s house offset the cost of the room they’d rented, at the very least. Enthir’s company wasn’t entirely welcome—Sapphire would have preferred to stew in silence, and the mage was anything but quiet. That being said, his companionship seemed to keep Rune in good spirits, and anything that kept him from drinking himself to death while they awaited further instruction was probably a good thing.

Brynjolf arrived three days after they did in with Karliah in tow, wearing an unfamiliar set of armor. Sapphire only knew him by his voice—the ensemble was made from thin plates of dark metal that shifted and changed in hue as if imbued with shadows, and the hood completely obscured his face. Karliah was dressed in the same fashion. Enthir greeted her enthusiastically and was quick to offer his workspace for them to plan their next move.

The Serpent Stone sat to the northeast, on an island out on the frigid sea. The waters here were treacherous; the ocean was calm, but it was cold enough that anyone who attempted to swim through them or fell overboard would die within minutes. The channel between the shore and the island was fraught with icebergs and jagged rocks that concealed themselves just beneath the surface and only made themselves known when they gouged through the hull of many a ship that had foolishly sailed too close.

A small vessel was their only real option, but they would have to tread carefully. It would be disheartening to have come this far and succumb to the sea before they reached their final destination.

Enthir ended up being their saving grace. Citing an old debt to Karliah that he’d yet to repay, he managed to acquire a boat for the five of them to sail to Serpent Stone Island. All four of the thieves knew better than to ask how or where he’d found it. They set sail that night, under the cover of darkness, with Enthir at the tiller and a ball of magelight he’d conjured sitting atop the prow. The elf muttered a stream of arcane words under his breath as the boat slowly drifted across the black mirror of the Sea of Ghosts. Blue sparks glowed at his fingertips.

“What are you casting?” Rune asked with interest, peering over the side of the boat.

“Clairvoyance. To guide us between the rocks.” Enthir’s voice was strained. Rune nodded and did nothing further to break his concentration.

The rest of the thieves did not speak as the island loomed in the distance, black stone cairns and arches standing out in stark contrast with the ice that glimmered all around. They grew ever closer until their little vessel at last ran aground on the rocky shore of the island with a thud.

Brynjolf and Rune dragged the boat up onto the snow after the others had disembarked so that it wouldn’t drift away. Together, with some trepidation, the five of them journeyed up the hill toward the standing stone.

The pathway that led to the island’s peak passed under a black stone arch, which looked as if it might collapse at any moment, and into a circle of cairns. The serpent stone sat on the opposite side of the circle from the arch.

Sapphire narrowed her eyes. Something glimmered and shifted in the air between them and their target. With a hiss and a snarl, the silvery shape that undulated before them was barreling toward them, a mouthful of wicked teeth gnashing for flesh.

“Ice wraith!” Rune cried, diving out of its path.

Sapphire drew her knife knowing it was futile. If she could get close enough to the beast to wound it with her dagger, it would certainly be close enough to her to take her hand off with one snap of its powerful jaws. The ice wraith circled the thieves, tasting the air like a snake, seemingly unable to decide which of them would make the tastiest meal.

A ball of flame roared through the air over Sapphire’s shoulder and slammed into the wraith’s body. It thudded to the ground, its translucent form writhing in pain as it shrieked. She glanced behind her to see Enthir, one hand still held aloft, a second firebolt already forming in his clenched fist.

In the end, it wasn’t needed. Brynjolf, wasting no time, dashed forward and plunged his sword though the wraith’s skull. It convulsed and then dissolved into a pile of glimmering frost. Enthir flung his firebolt unceremoniously into a nearby snowbank, where it sizzled and died.

“Well that was dramatic,” he remarked, dusting snow off his robes. “I’ll help myself to the teeth, if you don’t mind. They’re hard to procure.”

“Be my guest.” Brynjolf sheathed his blade.

Karliah, who had lost interest in the exchange the moment the threat was eliminated, stalked over to the Serpent Stone and examined it. Tracing the lines of the coiled serpent inscribed on its surface, she hummed to herself pensively. She knelt and placed her palm flat to the ground, closing her eyes as if she were concentrating.

“Nazir said the sanctum was _beneath_ the stone?”

Sapphire nodded. “Didn’t say how to get inside, though.”

“Hmm.” Karliah stood and placed one hand on either side of the stone. “Perhaps…”

Her fingers caressed the carving once more, and with a low thrumming the stone began to glow. Starlight seeped into the outlines of the serpent and raced along the etched channels that surrounded it. The hole in the center of the stone began to glow, and all at once shot a beam of light upward into the night sky. The light arced back downward, dancing between the cairns that made up the rest of the stone circle, weaving an intricate web over their heads.

A spark suddenly flared in the center of the archway they'd entered the circle through, as those who had been standing near it scrambled backward. Within an instant the entire archway was consumed by roiling black flames. It emitted a low rumble, like the sound of glaciers grinding against each other in the night.

"I think that did it," Sapphire deadpanned.

Karliah stood and crossed silently to the stone arch.

“It’s a portal,” she murmured, peering into the depths of the flames.

“I’m not exactly eager to throw myself into it,” Brynjolf remarked, moving to stand beside her. He reached out with his fingertips to touch the surface of the portal and snatched them back immediately as if burned, swearing.

“Interesting.” Enthir raised an eyebrow. “Haven’t seen anything like that before.”

Karliah hummed to herself. “I wonder…”

“Karliah, don’t,” Brynjolf warned. “It stings like frostbite venom—”

He broke off. Karliah’s hand broke the surface of the portal with no more difficulty than a pool of water. She smiled to herself grimly.

“Why in Oblivion would it let you pass but not me?”

“I was afraid it might be something like this.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out Mercer’s runed stone. “The lodestone must act as a key. We’ll each need one to pass through.”

Rune grimaced. “That’s going to be a problem.”

Sapphire counted in her head. Five of them, and only three stones: hers, Rune’s, and Mercer’s. Three thieves against the entirety of Molag Bal’s forces, with no idea what was awaiting them beyond the black flames. She pulled her lodestone from her pocket and held it in her fist, squeezing it tightly.

Brynjolf was deep in deliberation with Karliah several feet away. Though their voices were hushed, the tension between them was unmistakable.

“—Guildmaster,” Brynjolf snapped in a low voice, “and I’m just as much a Nightingale as you—”

“Lady Nocturnal—”

“Give me the stone, Karliah. You’ve kept enough from me already.”

Her shoulders sagged in defeat. “Fine.” She placed her lodestone in his hand with perhaps more force than was necessary, and then looked deep into his eyes. “You know what must be done.”

“Aye.”

Karliah sighed. “Be careful, Brynjolf. I don’t want to bury any more friends.”

“Always am, lass.”

The two of them turned to face the others. “Rune, Sapphire—” Brynjolf indicated the two of them with a nod. “You’re with me.”

“Enthir and I will wait here and guard the entrance.” Karliah reached into her satchel and pulled out the mirror Sapphire had stolen from Reuven’s safe what felt like a lifetime ago; the one that had started this entire disaster. Its surface rippled and shifted in the low light. It was impossible for Sapphire to tell if it was a trick of the light or something more sinister. Her skin crawled. “You’d better take this with you, Brynjolf.”

Sapphire raised an eyebrow.

He shrugged. “Think of it as a bargaining chip. If they want it so badly, perhaps they’d be willing to strike a deal for it.”

Sapphire wasn’t so certain, given the warning Galathil had given them at the outset, but there was always a chance. Brynjolf slipped the mirror somewhere into the shadows that shrouded his armor, and it vanished.

“Alright, you two.” Brynjolf’s blade rang as he drew it from its scabbard. “Step lightly. We don’t know what we’re going to find in there.”

Sapphire nodded and drew her dagger. Rune followed suit. The three of them stood there for a moment on the precipice as the arctic wind whistled all around, and then stepped forward into the flames.

~~~~~~

The flames did not burn as they licked across Sapphire’s body, but rather froze her skin like ice. She hardly had time for a shocked gasp before she was deposited on the other side, in a vast chamber with a domed ceiling that was silent as the grave. Stone pedestals ringed the room every few feet, and atop each of them sat an ornate mirror that matched the one concealed by Brynjolf. One pedestal sat empty.

The chamber was lit by a ball of magelight that hovered above their heads in the center of the room. There was no sign of the mage who had cast it, but Sapphire kept a wary eye on the shadows around the edges of the chamber for movement.

Brynjolf motioned for the two of them to follow him and crept toward the empty pedestal. The mirrors on the ones around them rippled and shifted in the low light. So it hadn’t been a trick of the light, then, Sapphire realized. They were more than just pretty looking glasses. Their true purpose remained a mystery.

“Hmm,” Brynjolf murmured, running his fingers over the stone plinth. “I wonder…”

He retrieved the mirror and turned it over in his hands. The soul gems set into its back glowed dully.

“Brynjolf,” Sapphire warned. “We don’t know what it does—”

“Sorry, lass. Only one way to find out.” Brynjolf ignored her pointed glare and made to set the mirror on the pedestal.

“That’s far enough.”

The unfamiliar voice rang out through the chamber, refined and clear as a bell. The speaker’s accent marked him as Imperial, and a wealthy one at that. The thieves froze and wheeled around to find a man standing behind them. He was tall and wide-chested, with an aquiline nose and eyes the color of nirnroot. His face was cruel. He wore armor that appeared to be Daedric in origin, though it was made of lighter plates than the usual fashion and fitted close to his body, presumably to cut down on weight and aid mobility. It was decorated in places with what looked to be razor-sharp teeth of some enormous beast.

Sapphire could see Brynjolf scrambling for the right thing to say. His silver tongue had gotten them out of many a tight place before. She doubted it would work here. They were, to all intents and purposes, trapped. Several other cultists had already emerged from the shadows at the edge of the room to join their leader. How in Oblivion had they snuck up on them? The thieves were certainly practiced at avoiding detection. They shouldn’t have been noticed so quickly.

“I believe you have something that belongs to me,” the man said coolly. “Hand it over.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brynjolf replied. When Sapphire glanced in his direction, the mirror was gone. She smiled to herself. He’d always been good at sleight-of-hand. Just as nimble with his fingers as his words.

“You’ll find it best not to play games with me, boy.” The man held out a hand. “The mirror.”

“What are these even for?” Sapphire piped up, gesturing around at the dozen or so others. “Find it hard to believe you like looking at yourself _that_ much.”

“Insolent.” He shook his head. “You steal from us, you violate the hallowed ground of our sanctum, and yet you still pretend not to know what you hold in your hands? Don’t insult me.”

“Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but nothing in life is free.” Sapphire found herself profoundly disliking this man. “Thieves or not, we still work for coin. If the boss says steal a mirror, I steal it and don’t ask questions. I don’t give a skeever’s mangy arse what it does.”

The man sneered. “Then you’re as stupid as you are arrogant.”

“People have said worse about me.” Sapphire shrugged.

The man turned his attention to Brynjolf. “You don’t have to tell me who sent you, Nightingale. Your mistress is a fool to think that one of her servants can hold his own against the legion of Molag Bal.”

“I don’t know about any of that,” Brynjolf said through gritted teeth. “My vows said nothing about fighting other Daedra. I’m here on behalf of my Guild, and nothing more. Your little charnel house is interfering with business. We’re simply looking to make a deal.”

“And you stand beside him?” The man glanced at Sapphire. “Do you even know what he is?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Sapphire spat. “I owe a debt. Until it’s paid, I’m loyal to the Guild.”

“What about you, boy?”

Rune, who had been standing silently behind Sapphire and Brynjolf, straightened up and stared at the man defiantly. “What about me?”

“Do you value your precious Guild enough to die for it?”

“I do, but it’s not the only reason I’m standing here.” Rune held up his lodestone grimly. “When I was an infant, you and your compatriots slaughtered my parents. I survived, and washed up in a basket on the shore outside Solitude with nothing but this stone. It’s this that led me back to you. And I swear,” he said, his voice rising with every word, stepping forward as he spoke. “That if it is the last thing I do, I will have your blood for it.”

The magelight cast Rune’s face into harsh relief, and the man’s cold veneer suddenly cracked. His haughty expression morphed into a tight-lipped grimace.

“Leave us,” he said to the acolytes at the edges of the chamber in a clipped tone. A few of them hesitated for a moment, but followed the order nonetheless, migrating through a narrow doorway to a room further into the depths of the sanctum.

The man stepped toward Rune slowly, no longer threatening—if anything, looking shaken. He stopped an arms’ length away and took an unsteady breath.

“It _is_ you.”

Rune took a step back, clearly caught off guard. “What in Oblivion is that supposed to mean?”

The man looked away, shaking his head as if coming out of trance. “I didn’t kill your parents, boy.”

“Then what happened to them? Why was I left with this and no explanation?”

“Hm.” The man smiled wanly. “That is a very long story.”

“We’ve got time,” Brynjolf said, gesturing around at the empty chamber. “Not a lot of other world-shattering crises to attend to at the moment.”

The man ignored him entirely. He kept his eyes trained on Rune. Sapphire didn’t like the way he looked at him—his gaze was almost hungry, as if he were imagining the ways he could crack Rune open and harvest whatever secrets he held inside.

“It was almost thirty years ago now,” the man said finally. “I was but an acolyte, training in the service of our lord. There was another acolyte, a woman, with hair like spun silk and lips the color of Alto wine. I was young and foolish. We fell in love.”

He paced the perimeter of the chamber as he spoke. Brynjolf and Sapphire watched him warily. Rune’s face was hard and revealed nothing of his thoughts.

“As the moons passed, we grew careless,” the man continued. “She became pregnant. I knew we wouldn’t be able to conceal it from our lord. I begged her to see an herbalist, to have it taken care of. She refused. She thought that he would be merciful.” His lips curled into a rueful smile. “Molag Bal knows no mercy. He is a being of pure chaos. As his servants, we are expected to be loyal to him above all others. Family ties complicate that.”

The man paused at one of the mirror plinths, staring into the depths of the glass. “The infant was born on the last of Sun’s Dusk. Molag Bal appeared to each of us then, and presented us with a punishment. Whosoever killed the child would be allowed to remain his acolyte, in service of the Legion. The other would be taken to Coldharbour, where they would meet a fate worse than death.”

“And since you’re standing here, I assume you struck the death blow without a second thought,” Rune said with venom.

“I was prepared to,” the man replied without a hint of remorse. “Auriel was not so easily convinced. Her faith in our lord had been corrupted. She chose our child over the triumph of Molag Bal’s designs.”

He paced slowly back and forth, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls of the chamber. “She stole away in the dead of night with the infant. She was one of the best among us, light on her feet, careful not to be spotted. She was able to stay just far enough ahead of me to protect the child, until the end. She set him afloat in a basket on the sea, with her lodestone tucked into his swaddling clothes. By the time I caught up with her, there was no trace of him.”

He came to a stop in front of Rune, whose face was hard as stone.

“And what happened to her?”

The man smiled wickedly. “I did what I had to do to regain the Lord’s favor.”

Sapphire could see the muscles jumping in Rune’s jaw as he clenched his teeth. “And now?”

“And now, I present you with a choice, just as I was given a choice all those years ago. Join the Legion. You were born to this life. If you’ve anything of your mother’s cunning and skill, then you would be an invaluable asset to our lord.”

“Or?”

“Become anathema. If you do not pledge yourself, I cannot guarantee your safety. You have seen too much already. Molag Bal would not permit you to leave this place alive.”

Sapphire and Brynjolf shot a wary glance at each other. She cursed internally. She’d suspected they’d have to cut their way out of this. The last thing she wanted was Rune’s body between her dagger and the exit.

Rune was silent for a long time, staring down the man who stood before him, the man who was a mirror image of himself, if only more wrinkled and with a coldness to his face rather than Rune’s amiable warmth. Green eyes met green eyes in the torchlight. The man smiled as if he’d already won.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, Rune shook his head.

“My father,” he said in a voice warped by strain, “was gentle and kind. He may not have sired me, but he took me in, fed me, clothed me, cared for me. I held his hand as he died. I wept for him. I buried him.”

His hand drifted slowly to the sword at his belt. “I suppose I should be grateful that my mother was smarter than you,” he spat, “or I would have died before I saw my first spring. And you have the gall to lay claim to me now?”

Rune’s sword sang as he drew it from its scabbard.

“I renounce you,” he declared, his voice thrumming through the chamber’s stale air. “My allegiance is to Nocturnal, and to my friends. Not to murderers and cowards.”

Sapphire gritted her teeth and drew her dagger, with Brynjolf unsheathing his sword at the same time. A fight it was, then, to decide the fate of the Guild, and for Rune to reclaim his birthright.

The man brandished a wicked-looking mace, its points encrusted with the rusty blood of those who had fallen under its crushing blows. “I’m disappointed,” he said, his lips curling into a sneer. “You could have been powerful.”

“You could have let my mother live!”

Rune lunged forward, slashing at the man with his short sword. He side-stepped the blow easily and countered with a heavy swing of his mace, which Rune threw himself to the ground to avoid. The man advanced on him, mace held high, clearly lining himself up to strike the death blow.

“Not so fast, you bastard!” Brynjolf swung his blade, which cut silently through the air. The sharp of it glanced off the side of the man’s armor, but the attack had its intended effect—it distracted him. Rune scrambled back to his feet, sword held firmly in hand, stance even.

“Don’t let your anger best you again,” Sapphire hissed. “Or he’s already won.”

The three of them encircled the man, barraging him with attacks from every direction. Precise, powerful swings of Brynjolf’s sword. Furious slashes of Sapphire’s dagger. Rune’s blows came from every direction, erratic and unpredictable, forcing the man to whirl and contort in ever-more improbable ways to block them all.

Sapphire bared her teeth. They were winning. Eventually he would tire, or misstep, and that’s all it would take for ebony or steel to find its place in his heart.

_“Enough!”_ the man roared, and magic flared at his fingertips.

Sapphire was suddenly frozen in place, unable to move or to speak. She strained her eyes, just able to make out Brynjolf in the same predicament, his face frozen in a snarl of rage, but his eyes frantic like a trapped animal’s.

“This is a family matter,” he spat, advancing on Rune, who had been spared from the spell’s effects. “Face me like a man, or not at all.”

Rune circled him warily, keeping his eyes on the man, the point of his sword never straying from its target. “I’ve spent my entire life imaging you,” he said, his lip curled in disgust. “What you might have been like, why you abandoned me, what I might say to you if by some miracle I ever found you alive.” He shook his head. “None of that matters now. I wish I’d been right, that you had been murdered by someone like the man you are now, because then I could have slept easily knowing that you were a good man. A father I could be proud of, instead of a monster!”

At the last word, he hurled himself toward the man, their weapons locking in a screeching clash of steel and ebony. Rune’s teeth were bared, his eyes wild, his breath coming in ragged pants and beads of sweat streaming down his forehead. He threw himself at the man who had killed his family with all the rage of someone who had only just realized what he’d lost.

Sword and mace flashed through the air over and over, each blocking the other’s blows at every turn. Rune was holding his own, but not for long—one misstep, one wrong move, and the wicked points of the mace come to rest deep in the vault of his skull. Sapphire watched, frozen, utterly helpless to do anything except bear witness.

The heel of Rune’s boot caught on a rock, and he stumbled backward. The man advanced upon him, eyes frenzied, face contorted with gloating triumph. He raised the mace over his head and brought it down like a hammer.

Quick as a striking snake, Rune pulled the silver mirror seemingly from nowhere and used it to block the blow. The mace impacted its shimmering surface, and the world itself seemed to shatter.

There was a burst of blinding light and a great wail, which seemed to echo off every surface and rose in pitch until Sapphire felt her head might burst. The magic binding her released at once, and she collapsed to her knees, gasping for air.

When the dust cleared, there were two bodies on the chamber floor.

“Rune?” A note of panic bled into Sapphire’s voice. She scrambled to her feet and ran to him, grimacing as she stepped over the body of the man who had been his father. A silvered shard protruded from one ruined eye socket, and his head lolled on his shoulders.

Rune lay face down on the floor, caked in dust, shards glimmering all around him like fallen stars, still grasping what was left of the mirror in one hand. Sapphire rolled him over, and he coughed.

“Thank Nocturnal,” Brynjolf muttered from somewhere behind her. “That was damned impressive, lad.”

“How’d you even get the mirror in the first place?” Sapphire demanded. “I thought Brynjolf had it.”

“Sleight-of-hand.” Rune groaned and sat up. “I learned from the best.”

Brynjolf grinned.

“Is that it then? It’s over?”

“It would seem to be,” the Guildmaster said warily. “Though I think we’d best make our exit before the rest of his acolytes figure out what’s happened.”

“Agreed.” Sapphire took what was left of the mirror from Rune, running her fingers over the diamonds and soul gems embedded in its back. “Although...it does seem like a shame to just let these go to waste…”

Rune and Brynjolf looked at her and grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm alive! I've been agonizing over this chapter for the better part of the past month. Many thanks to my amazing beta, Sun, for kicking my ass into shape. Only one chapter left :)


	7. Veritas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After publishing the last chapter, I felt that something about it didn't sit right with me. I stewed about it for a while, but eventually ended up making some changes to its end to keep the story cleaner. Without further ado, here's the epilogue!
> 
> Beta read by the lovely [SunPraiser31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunPraiser31)!

Sapphire crept in darkness, her lockpicks finding the pins easily and pushing them into place. The shop door swung inward.

She moved in shadow, her feet tracing a familiar path through displays and weapon racks. She found the case she wanted behind the counter, still open, still empty. The note she’d left was gone. She doubted it had been well-received by the shop’s proprietor, but at least now she could make it right. Anything to get Rune off her back.

Into the case she placed a handsome leather pouch. Inside were a dozen diamonds the size of goose eggs, and a note— _Consider my debt repaid. Your blade has served me well._ The gems should be more than enough to cover the cost of the dagger she’d stolen six times over.

Sapphire carefully closed the case and locked it once more. In the morning, the shop’s owner would awake to find herself a very rich woman. All the better for her to forge more blades, Sapphire reasoned. She might even purchase one legitimately at some point.

She left the shop as silently as she’d entered, closing the door securely behind her.

~~~~~~

“So it’s over, then?” Delvin said, one eyebrow raised, as the six of them—Sapphire, Rune, Brynjolf, Vex, Karliah, and himself—sat together around the table, drinks in hand.

They’d met at the Bee and Barb, for once, rather than the Flagon. It turned out Vekel had been quite serious in his threat not to serve Sapphire anymore. That didn’t bother her; his temper would cool, in time, and in the meantime she was more than happy to down drinks with Maul at the meadery or suffer through one of Talen-Jei’s fanciful cocktails. There was a comforting familiarity to Riften’s boards and planks, particularly now that the storm had passed and they were all still standing. And it put her closer to Grelka.

“It would appear to be,” Brynjolf replied. “For now, at least. Who knows what tomorrow might bring.”

“Well, I know tonight brought a damn good haul.” Vex raised her glass. “To the Guild.”

“To the Guild,” they all chorused, and drank deeply.

Brynjolf, Sapphire, and Rune had escaped the Legion’s sanctum with more than just their lives. True, they might not have discovered the significance of the many mirrors, but they’d smashed them all for good measure before making their exit. The diamonds they’d prized from the backs and filled their pockets with had paid off Sapphire’s debt to Adrianne Avenicci and filled the Guild’s coffers nicely. They were much wealthier now than they’d been at the outset of the journey.

Rune had been quiet since they’d returned. More thoughtful. Sapphire knew he needed to work through everything that had happened on his own time. She gave him space, but not too much, dragging him out on small jobs when it seemed like he was getting lost in his own head. In time, the weight seemed to lift slowly from his shoulders, and he was himself again.

At the end of it all, Rune made a decision.

“Are you sure?” Sapphire asked as the two of them stood in the Flagon by Arnskar’s forge. “There’s no undoing this.”

“I’m sure.” Rune hefted Arnskar’s hammer, borrowed on a favor, over his head. It looked too heavy for his frame, but his strength never wavered.

Rune swung the hammer down on the lodestone, and it shattered into a thousand glimmering pieces.

The two of them gathered the shards they could find and dumped them into the fire. They melted away in the heat of the flames, and Rune’s last link to his birth parents was truly destroyed.

“Are you alright?” Sapphire asked, laying a hand on his shoulder as he stared into the forge.

He turned to her and grinned. “Yeah. I think I am. Enough of legacies. It’s time for us to make our own way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's over! I hope you enjoyed this little fic--I wanted to explore what Rune's personal quest might have looked like if he were given one, and it was fun to write both his character and Sapphire's. Thank you for reading! I may eventually write another chaptered fic featuring Sapphire at some point in the future.


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